


Jack Be Nimble

by mad_marquise



Category: Baby Driver (2017), The Nice Guys (2016)
Genre: Backstory, Crossover, Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11740296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_marquise/pseuds/mad_marquise
Summary: Holland and Jackson's newest case involves a mysterious punk who's been boosting cars in L.A.





	Jack Be Nimble

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the mid-70s -- no exact dates, because the timelines in The Nice Guys and Baby Driver wouldn't technically line up precisely, but it's close enough. 
> 
> Infinite cool points for whoever gets the other major movie ref I slipped in :)

Not one month after the debacle with Judy Kuttner and her daughter and the Department of Justice, a whole new can of worms opens. This time, it’s some teen wannabe-vigilante boosting the cars of all the rich assholes in town, selling them to some secret distributor, then pocketing half the cash and giving the rest to needy folks. The cops have been on the case for weeks, but haven’t been able to nab the kid because he’s a ridiculously skilled driver and keeps sleeping right out of reach.

It was just their luck a few minutes ago – Detectives Holland March and Jackson Healy of The Nice Guys Agency spotted the perp buying coffee at the same diner they were having lunch in.

Maybe it would’ve been a bit luckier if Holland hadn’t screamed “FREEZE” at the kid, alerting him to make a break for it amongst the panic of all the other diner patrons.

The element of surprise wasn’t always his forte. Jackson made sure to scream this loud and clear while they scrambled to get out.

“Y’know, I’m getting really fucking sick of the kids in this town,” Holland groans as they sprint to his convertible, which is parked by the curb. “We’re in LA and they can’t find some _legal_ cheap thrills?”

“Thrill of the chase,” Jackson pants. “Can’t get it any other way. One thing these little shits know the value of.” They jump in the car and Holland floors it, whipping round the corner after the kid, who’s riding away in a bright red convertible of his own. The kid’s insanely good, gliding in and out of tight spots like butter, expertly changing gears as the road inclines up, up, up…

“Don’t lose him, don’t lose him!” Jackson barks.

“The fuck does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks an awful lot like you’re fucking losing him, March, c’mon!”

Holland lets out a long screech, clutching the wheel in a death grip, face red, everything in him tense, tense, tense. “Don’t fucking do that, you know I can’t stand when you do that, just help me find the guy!”

This proves to be damn-near impossible; the kid keeps making these uber-sharp hairpin turns, and it’s all Holland’s poor car can do to keep up. Jackson lurches against him with every bend.

“March, you’re gonna make me sick!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. ‘Don’t Lose Him’ –”

_“THERE!”_

The kid makes a sharp turn into small alley nearby.

Of course.

On instinct, Holland wrenches the wheel in the opposite direction, sending them hurdling around the other side of the buildings and into the back end of the alley, putting them right in front of the kid as he races towards them head-on –

“Healy, hit it!”

Jackson fires his handgun, pop’s the perp’s tire with a BANG and sends the kid careening at an angle towards them as Holland wrenches the wheel again and sideswipes the kid’s car into a halt. He and Jackson quickly clamber out of the car and close in on the kid, who’s dazed as hell, yet trying to pull himself out of his seat anyway. Holland throws himself over the side and throws his arms around the kid’s shoulders. Jackson grabs the hand that’s reaching for a gun, grabs his chin in a death grip, and tilts it up.

Amongst the smattering of scrapes and bruises, he’s got dimples and a cleft chin and eyes that look too clever for his own good.

Jackson looks at him with disgust.

“Don’t you kids go to summer camp anymore?”

 

***

 

Turns out the perp’s name is Jack Vincennes, Jr. He’s the son of the now-deceased Jack Vincennes, Sr., a notoriously crooked cop on the LAPD back in the 50s when corruption on the force had hit an all-time high.

“That’s not the name that was on all your shit, though,” Holland says to Vincennes, pacing a circle around him in the questioning room at the station. “You wanna tell me a little about that?”

There’s a flash of something nasty on Vincennes’ face, and then he smirks. “They call me Doc,” he says coolly. “They call me Doc ‘cause I can doctor any car you put in front of me.”

“Yeah, well.” Holland stops in front of him. “Can you doctor reports? ‘Cause you’re gonna need a hell of a lot of that to clear your name between your own bullshit and your father’s.”

Doc’s smile fades.

“What? You don’t know about the little legacy your dad left behind?”

“Of course I do,” Doc snaps. “But what the hell does he have to do with me?”

“Only your entire fate? Something like that?” Holland lights up a cigarette, takes a few puffs before continuing. “See, I’m a nice guy. No pun intended. But some of the other guys on the force…they’re not gonna be so keen to let you go. You better believe they’re gonna use whatever dirt daddy got to dirty you up, too. So you,” he points with the hand holding the cig, “You would do pretty well to listen to me.”

Doc is silent, his jaw steeled. Holland can practically see the gears turning in his head as he thinks it over. Probably realizing how many scores he’d be missing out on in jail. Or simply how much time, period, that’d be wasted…

“You got any family?” Holland asks.

Doc sighs. “Mother and Grandpa,” he grumbles. “Live with ‘em.”

 _Of course,_ Holland thinks. _This kid looks entirely too clean-cut to be living rough and on his own._

“You care about ‘em?”

Doc perks up a bit then. “Of course!” He looks incredulous.

Holland nods. “Y’know, I bet they’ll be mighty disappointed to have to see you put away, kid. I know you had good intentions – the whole Robin Hood thing was kinda cute, I must admit – but you still broke the law. We gotta get your Ma and Gramps down here soon anyways; it’s gonna suck to have to tell them that you’re goin’ in the slammer.”

Doc…actually looks a bit remorseful at that.

Holland forces himself not to smirk.

 _Yup,_ he thinks, _this kid is definitely no thug. Look at him. Look at that fucking cashmere sweater._

“Take the community service,” Holland says seriously. “I can pull strings. Get you off light, since you’re a minor. Do your service and fucking put your head to better use already. Healy tells me you look smart, I’m standing in front of you now, and you look smart. You can do better than this.”

And he does.

40 years later, Doc gets himself a pretty Baby who can doctor and drive eons better than he ever could.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments/constructive criticism are always appreciated!
> 
> catch me on tumblr!  
> brotherlode.tumblr.com


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